Frail
by Khirsah
Summary: The smoothest waters hide the darkest depths.


Title: Frail   
Author: Khirsah   
Rating: PG   
Pairing: None, really   
Archive: HP archive and Forbidden Forest   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own them (darn it all!) The song belongs to Jars of Clay and is entitled Frail.   
  
Summary: The smoothest waters hide the darkest depths.   
  
Notes: No secret here-- Neville Longbottom is my absolute favorite HP character. He's been through *so* *much* and he's still so undeniably sweet and trusting. ::sigh:: I love him. Love him with me? (and N/P rules. Come on, ya gotta see it...)   
  
  
  
  
****************   
Cleansed by my deception   
I've always been a fool   
I fear this love reaction   
Just like you said I would.   
A rose would never lie   
about the love it brings   
And I can never promise   
to be any of those things...   
  
If I were not so weak   
If I were not so cold   
If I were not so scared   
of being broken growing old   
I would be...   
I would be... frail.   
  
  
  
  
******************   
  
  
  
  
  
  
"H-Hey, mum. It's me. Neville. Your son. D'you remember, mum? Remember me?  
  
Neville?  
  
Your son?  
  
I... I never seen to know what to say when I'm here. Not that I *ever* really know what to say. Especially to the other boys at school. Never. It's like I want to say something really smart and really... I dunno, really normal, like I'm just one of them or something. Like I belong with them. I sit there, sometimes, alone in my room, just practicing, just in case one of them ever starts to talk to me. Just in case, you know, they start to talk and I talk back and, well.  
  
It's stupid, I know. They never talk to me. My fault, I guess. I know. I just... It's kinda hard to be with all of them sometimes. I suppose you'd say I should just be myself, mum. I should just try to talk to them like I talk to *you*, and tell the truth. But it's different with you, mum. You never expect me to be something that I'm not.  
  
You never expect anything from me at all.  
  
Do you remember me when I'm gone, mum? Do you... do you think about me? Sometimes? It doesn't matter if you can love me or not-- not really. As long as you think about me every once and awhile. Just... just every once and awhile.  
  
I think about you a lot. At school. At the House. I wish you and dad would get better. I wish you'd get all better and cone to get me. I think about what it would be like, sometimes. If I lived with you and dad. We'd have a small house somewhere with a bedroom for you and a bedroom for me and a bedroom for guests that we'd have. There'd be a small kitchen and a cozy den and a dining room that we'd never use because it was too formal but we kept anyways because it was the proper thing to do. We'd eat in the kitchen together, just you and me and dad, and we'd laugh together and I'd tell you about school...  
  
Doesn't that sound nice, mum? Doesn't it? Don't you want that, too?  
  
You and dad would scold me when I was bad, but you'd never yell at me for something I couldn't help. You wouldn't be mad that I was useless and practically a squidge and would never say that you were proud of me yet let me know that you were lying by the pity in your eyes. You'd never sigh "Oh, Neville" as if I were a child or weren't even there, and you'd always hug me tight and touch me with warm hands and I...  
  
......  
  
I. I wish I was allowed in there with you. I wish. I wish they'd let me touch you. Just once. I imagine it sometimes-- that you're here, holding me. I wrap my arms around myself and imagine that it's you, squeezing me tight. I wonder what you smell like. Like lavender, I think. Soft. Warm.  
  
God, mum, I miss you. It's so cold up at the Big House-- so cold and so lonely. I'm afraid to go there and I'm afraid to go to school and I'm afraid to come here because each time I do, it's like we're starting from the beginning again. Like you don't remember me anymore from one visit to the next.  
  
But you *do* remember me. I *know* that you do. You have to, mum; you *have* to. And you're going to get better, you and dad, and you're going to be let out and you're going to take me away from the Big House and we're going to all live together like a family and you'll hold me, you'll hug me, and it'll all be okay. Because it has to. I- I don't know if I can take this. I'm not strong like you and dad...  
  
I...  
  
Damn, I...  
  
......  
  
You know what, mum? Sometimes, I wish they'd gotten me, too. All those years ago. I wish they'd gotten me. Then I'd be in there with you and I wouldn't be so alone all the time.  
  
Would you like that, mum? Would you like for me to be in there with you? You me and dad, together?  
  
......  
  
Mum?  
  
Mum?  
  
......  
  
D'you remember who this is? D'you remember me?  
  
Neville?  
  
Your son?  
  
......  
  
......  
  
......  
  
I love you, mum. I... I'll see you next holiday...  
  
......"  
  
  
  
  
**************  
  
  
  
  
Blessed are the shallow   
depth they'll never find   
there seems to be some comfort   
in runes that try to hide.   
Exposed beyond the shadows   
you take this cup from me   
in turn removes my blindness   
pain becomes my peace   
  
If I were not so weak   
If I were not so cold   
If I were not so scared   
of being broken growing old   
I would be...   
I would be... frail.   
  



End file.
